My Family and other Circuses
Daddy, can we go to the circus?
Monday
“Daddy, can we go to the circus?”
“Eat your cereal Lucy. Mrs Brown will be here shortly.”
“Can we though?”
“Yes, when you’ve finished your breakfast.”
If we were still at the breakfast table when Mrs Brown arrived there was a good chance that we would both be late for school.
Mrs Brown would begin the conversation, probably about Mr Brown and his lumbago or about her daughter Janet and her disastrous marriage to “the beast” Eric. When Mrs Brown started a conversation you were there for the duration. It was like tearing your skin away from super-glue.
“Will they have people in sparkles flying in the air?”
I glanced up at the time on the TV: 7:58.
“What? Where?”
“At the circus.”
“What circus?”
“Next door.”
From outside I could hear Mrs Brown chaining her bike to the fence.
“Okay, time to go.”
My hand reached out to pick up Lucy’s breakfast bowl, but she was too fast for me. Her little hands gripping the bowl and the spoon so hard that her knuckles turned white.
“No!”
“Well come on, hurry up. Mrs Brown is here.”
“And people on wheels throwing balls?”
“I’ll throw you young lady if you don’t hurry up and eat that last spoonful of cereal.”
“Okay, fibished,” she said, through a mouthful of oats and dried fruit.
In a trice I grabbed her bowl and put it on the draining board by the sink just as the back door flew open.
Mrs Brown entered like a whirlwind, moving around the kitchen, collecting plates and cutlery with one hand, running the water into the sink with the other and squeezing out the Fairy liquid with …? How does she do that?
“Oh, that main road gets worse. Frightens me to death. Nearly came a cropper. Twice. Twice nearly shook hands with me maker, “How do you do” but no not yet, thankfully.
“Morning Mrs Brown, we are just …”
“Needs a bicycle lane. I’ve been on to the council any number of times but all they do is talk. I’ll be in me box and six feet beneath before they do something.”
“Morning Mrs Brown,” said Lucy.
“Going so fast on a road like that, there ought to be a law.”
“I think you’ll find that there probably …”
“Do you need them washed today?”
“Sorry?” I grabbed our coats from the rack and folded Lucy’s arms into the sleeves.
“Or can you waits another day perhaps? I only ask ’cause I have to take Mr B to the docs this after. Up all night with his trouble he was, took so many pills I swear you could hear him rattle as he comes downstairs. Poor thing, nothing touches these days, takes them like Smarties, enough to kill a racehorse but don’t even touch the sides. So, if you are okay for smalls and things then …”
“No that’s fine, we can manage.”
Lucy put her gloves on the wrong hands and then swapped them over. “Guess what Mrs Brown, the circus has moved in next door.”
“Circus, eh?” Mrs Brown was now at the sink cloaked in a cloud of bubbles. “Don’t see so many these days I reckon. Back in the day we had elephants and tigers and mangy lions and skinny seals balancing spinning balls on their noses. Stopped all that malarkey now and rightly so I think. God didn’t take all that trouble to put them on this earth just for us to watch and laugh at whilst we eat ice cream. I don’t think. Mind don’t know what they do in circuses these days without the animals.”
“They have clowns,” said Lucy.
“Oh, clowns, not a lover I must say, used to make me tremble, back in the day, afraid I was, long before Stephen King added his tuppence worth.”
“Okay, Lucy, chop, chop, time to go.”
“I like clowns,” said Lucy, “They give you nice sweets.”
“Fairy.”
“Lucy, where’s your bag?”
“Can you add it to the list?”
“Yes, of course, what? Lucy, bag!”
“Fairy.” Said Mrs Brown again.
“Fairy?”
“For the dishes.” Mrs Brown held up the bottle.
“Right, yes, got it.”
“Lucy, I won’t tell you again.”
As we climbed into the car I thought I saw the front window curtains move in the house next door. Maybe it was Sam back to take one last look or collect a few things, but I couldn’t see it somehow. He was so distressed when Alice passed. “Got to quit,” he said, “too many ghosts.”
I hadn’t seen any other evidence but I hoped somebody had bought the place. The gardens, front and back, were starting to look like wildernesses, overrun with dandelions and rhododendron. And the lawn: you could hide a lion.
Tuesday
“Do German shepherd dogs speak German?”
“Lucy where’s you’re sports joggers?”
“Or just dog?”
“And your skorts?”
“Or German dog?”
“Lucy!”
“Eh?”
“Your joggers and your skorts, where are they?”
“In the basket.”
“Oh, yes.”
I had forgotten about the washing.
“Okay, well go upstairs and get your second pair of both. I think they’re in your room, bottom drawer.”
“What the red ones?”
“Yes, the red ones.”
“But I’m in the blue team. I can’t wear red ones.”
“Well today you’ll have to be in the red team. The blue are in the wash.”
“Won’t.”
“Lucy!”
Lucy stood up, letting her chair scrape noisily on the wooden kitchen floor.
“There ought to be a law.”
While Lucy was upstairs I watched the silent TV screen. A news report of a riot somewhere in the world reminded me that I had class 11c for Geography that morning.
As I put the sports bag in the boot of the car I noticed the blue material poking out from the zip. The sports joggers, retrieved from the basket, probably covered in mud and smelling of sweat. I couldn’t possibly let her go to school like that …
As we pulled out of the drive I thought I saw a puff of white smoke from behind next door’s shed.
Wednesday
“Sorry Mr C but I couldn’t find Lucy’s sports thingumajigs in the basket yesterday.”
“Ah, no, it’s okay, she wore them again. They weren’t so dirty.”
“Really? There’s normally mud and all …”
“No, they were fine.”
“Well, just as long as you know they isn’t washed.”
“No, of course.”
I made a mental note and immediately forgot it.
“Mrs Brown, did you know that the Queen drinks beer from the bottle?”
“Really? No surely not Lucy, she would use a nice cut glass tankard or perhaps a silver goblet.”
“No from the bottle, I see it. And she smokes cigarettes that you make yourself and she spits.”
“Well, she has got a lot to put up with these days. Enough to make anybody spit I reckon.”
“Lucy, time to go:”
As we turned into the road I thought I heard next door’s toilet flush, but it may have been Mrs Brown emptying the sink.
Thursday
“Do gorillas have to take a driving test?”
“Well, no, gorillas don’t normally drive.”
“But if they do, do they have to take a test?”
On the TV screen they were showing highlights of a boxing match, reminding me that at 12 o’clock I had a meeting with the Deputy Head.
Friday
The TV was showing a news item. A robbery at the local bank. A gang of masked thieves.
“Look daddy, the circus family.”
“Come on Lucy eat your breakfast, we’re late.”
“They´re famous.”
“Everybody’s famous for five seconds these days.”
“Even me?”
“Yes, even you my lady, one day, I am sure. Now grab your hockey stick and get in the car. Maybe you can be famous for being on time for school for once.”
As I turned to switch off the TV I saw the CC photograph of the gang: the Queen, a clown, a gorilla and a German shepherd dog. They seemed vaguely familiar. Oh yes, it reminded me that I had 11c for drama class that morning.
As we drove out I saw an empty beer bottle on next door’s porch. Maybe we had squatters. Oh well, that wasn’t so bad. Perhaps they would cut the lawn.
